


because we're young (and love is a worthwhile fight)

by buzzbug82



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Wedding blues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 08:50:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbug82/pseuds/buzzbug82
Summary: Delicious cake, beautiful flowers, champagne to die for—and the way the grooms always look at their brides when they walk across the aisle; Phil thinks maybe that is why people get married.But no, because truthfully what marriage is--





	because we're young (and love is a worthwhile fight)

 

“So, when is your wedding?”

 

 

Phil is halfway eating his steak when his ninety-year-old grandaunt, whom is sitting a seat away, asked the question. He slowly looks up to see she is staring at his older brother. Relieves that he is not the target of the distant-relatives-killer-question, Phil goes back to his steak while Martyn smiles good-naturedly, waving it away.

 

 

“I’ll send you an invitation when it happens, Aunt Greta.”

 

 

She lets out a tiny grunt. “Not too long, I hope.” She is looking pointedly at the newlywed smiling and giggling away at another table, with hands never leaving each other’s backs. “Look how happy they are; should have got married a long time ago and give me at least six grandchildren.”

 

 

Phil and Martyn exchange looks. True that they might have not know their cousin that well, but they doubt Anne and Charles would even want to have six children; with all their talks about travelling the world until they’re old enough to settle.

 

 

“You see, some people nowadays is adamant on not getting married, enjoying free relationship; don’t they know that a marriage can save them?” Aunt Greta scoffs and Martyn discretely offers her a beverage.

 

 

“You have a girl?” Aunt Greta asks.

 

 

“I do, Aunt Greta.” Martyn replies, reaching for his own glass. Phil asks the passing waiter for another, just in case. “And I love her very much.”

 

 

“Good,”

 

 

Then, as fate is cruel, she catches Phil’s eyes, and Phil thinks he will be the one who need the champagne more than Martyn.

 

 

“How about you, dearie? Do you have a girl?”

 

 

 _Screw Martyn_. “No, but I—“

 

 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me, dearie,” Aunt Greta suddenly moves forward and grabs his hands, almost smearing the steak sauce all over her ruffled sleeves. “I got just the girl for you; such lovely creature, you see. Cooks like a chef. A designer, makes houses look beautiful—“

 

 

His knife falls down to nice, white tablecloth; as if coming to a wedding which he doesn’t know anybody is not awkward enough. “No, I mean, I don’t have a girl-- because I have a boy back home.”

 

 

It’s not uncomfortable to say it; after all it’s been seven—eight years? It’s been forever. Everyone knows. _Everyone_.

 

 

Aunt Greta blinks once, twice. “Do you?” she nods, and pats his hand before leaning back.

 

 

Well, maybe not everyone.

 

 

“Good for you, my boy. If you haven’t, I know this one boy back in Chester—an accountant, mind you. Christ, why haven’t anyone told me that this boy is a queer?” she howls, looking around the room. A few aunts and uncles (goodness, Phil doesn’t remember their names at all) shake their heads, and Anne howls back at her from across the room.

 

 

“We did, Aunt Greta. Five years ago!” And they all laugh in good-humour.

 

 

“Blimey, I must have forgotten again,”

 

 

Phil laughs too. See, it’s not an uncomfortable acknowledgement-- after all these years. “It’s fine, Aunt Greta,”

 

 

“So, when is your wedding, then?”

 

 

He finishes the second glass of champagne, and pushes away his steak. “Not anytime soon, Aunt Greta.”

 

 

* * *

 

Wedding.

 

 

Marriage.

 

 

Delicious cake, beautiful flowers, champagne to die for—and the way the grooms always look at their brides when they walk across the aisle; Phil thinks maybe this is why people get married. It doesn’t matter that it’s a union on a piece of paper.

 

 

Phil has been thinking about marriage. Not a lot—just ever since some sort of an electric shock circuited his brain when he was doing laundry and sorting out Dan’s black pants at their kitchen while Dan was ordering pizza online about a few weeks ago—when he came back to his sense, he realized he has been having a staring ontest with the glass door, mouth hanging open in sudden realization of being settle down (the glass door won, by the way. 93-0.)

 

 

It didn't occur to him when they were on tour; but that is understandable—how could he thought about marriage and settling down in the midst of a rattling bed on a tour bus and being sweaty and pumping adrenaline on stages with hundreds of degrees spotlights? Dan didn’t even have time for existential crisis. They were busy; they were creating memories, building an empire.

 

 

After a joint channel, joint books and a joint tour; he already knows that whatever he has with Dan will be a very, _very_ long-term.

 

 

What makes this different, then? A calming heart after a big tour success? High financial securities? A long, impressive future resume?

 

 

The end of an era?

 

 

Phil narrows his eyes at the champagne glass, doubtful. No, that is not it. Somehow, along the way, albeit all the things he gained, he feels like he’s missing something. It's like he is missing something that he couldn’t see.

 

 

Martyn’s hearty chuckle at his left brought him back from his musing, and he glances at his brother. “What is it?”

 

 

Martyn is holding a napkin holder made of paper with big, red lips printed in the middle. Phil can’t believe he missed it at first sight. He tentatively takes it from Martyn’s hand and spontaneously hooks it over his nose.

 

 

“You don’t look any different,” Martyn says, enjoying being a little shit, but reaches out for Phil’s phone to snap a commemorative picture anyway.

 

 

“You’re so funny,” Phil sighs and takes it off, and he thinks if boredom can lead to death.

 

 

He has been spending time with Dan too much.

 

 

“I’m not the one hooking a suspicious-looking napkin holder on his nose,”

 

 

Phil decides to ignore him, and opens his messaging app to text Dan who is probably still editing one of their gamingmas video. He asks, and receives a picture of Dan’s laptop screen opens on tumblr dashboard. Of course. He doesn’t expect anything less.

 

 

“You two already put up the Christmas tree?” Martyn, the sneaky bastard, glances indiscreetly at his phone screen, staring at the picture Dan sent. There is a shadow of a Christmas tree in the background of the picture.

 

 

“Yeah, we thought it's better to be early because we will probably going to be busy near Christmas,” Phil thinks about their gamingmas commitment; twenty-four gaming videos before the 25th December. It’s still on a trial run, though. Nothing is fix on stone. “And do you mind?” He scoots his chair away from Martyn.

 

 

Martyn makes a face at him. “Aww, do’t tell me you two are going to sext in the middle of a family wed—“

 

 

“Oh my god, first of all, why do you care, and second—“

 

 

Martyn has already stop listening.

 

 

Nothing is set on stone.

 

 

* * *

 

Some marriage is done to save something; and he and Dan don’t need saving.

 

 

That’s what Phil thinks when he is standing outside at the curb, surrounded by his parents and brother and faceless relatives, staring at the car with the sign “Just Married” at the bumper; staring and waving until the white car engulfed by the street lights and disappears into the suburb darkness.

 

 

That’s what Phil thinks when he is leaning over a huge trunk with singing crickets as background music, talking to Dan in low whispers over the phone until his parents calls out to him so they could go home; imagining how scared Dan would be if he is standing beside him, overlooking the trees in the dark.

 

 

That’s what Phil thinks when he strolls down the stairs next morning with his suitcase, greeting good morning to his smiling parents and a sleepy Martyn.

 

 

“Eat up, child, don’t want you to be hungry when you’re on the train.” Kathryn is ready with a plate of pancakes and a mug of coffee and Phil feels like he is ready to take over the world.

 

 

“You’re still going to Brandcast when you arrives London?” Martyn asks, healing his hangover with a load of maple syrup. He is staying over for another two days, while Phil will be leaving back to the city in two hours.

 

 

“I do,” Phil replies. “Probably won’t have time to go back to the flat first, so I’ll take a taxi to the event straight from the station.”

 

 

“You can’t skip?”

 

 

It hasn’t occur to him. “I can’t, Dan already agreed to go.”

 

 

There’s another meaning somewhere in that short sentence, and Phil has to stop drinking his coffee to ponder over it; trying to find the missing _something_ —but fails. His family doesn’t even bat an eye at his supposedly irrelevant reasoning; Nigel is asking what Brandcast is to Martyn, and Kath reminds him for the third time to call her once he reaches London; but this is _Dan_ , and Phil knows his family understands.

 

 

Some marriage is done to save something; and he and Dan don’t need saving.

 

 

That’s what Phil thinks when he is waving goodbye to his parents and Martyn, and eyes linger over his dad’s hand around his mom’s shoulders—and he thinks back to the countless times he has bumped his shoulders to Dan’s; in reassurance, courage, and sometimes forgiveness.

 

 

Some marriage is done to save something; and Phil thinks of his picture-perfect parents, who has been married far longer than he lives, who don't need saving.

 

 

He and Dan don’t need saving.

 

 

* * *

 

He spend most of his time sleeping in the train, uninterested in the scenery or the chatters across the aisle. When he wakes up, he checks if there’s wi-fi in the train, and is in the middle of watching the new gamingmas video that Dan uploaded last night when the train arrives at his destination. He picks up his luggage and calls Kath about his arrival while waiting for a taxi.

 

 

It’s late evening, and he texts Dan when he’s got into the taxi, asking for the address. Dan replies with a location map, and a picture Louise has taken of him.

 

 

“Just arrive, son?” The taxi driver asks politely, glancing at his small suitcase. He is a Muslim man with friendly, brown eyes, and Phil sees a picture of the driver’s wife and three sons on the taxi’s dashboard.

 

 

“Yes, from the north.” Phil replies, and stares at the picture. All of his three sons have black hair, and the wife with long hijab has the kindest face he had ever seen next to his own mom.

 

 

“So, where are you heading, sonny?”

 

 

Phil pulls out his phone and shows the address to the driver.

 

 

“Ah,” the taxi driver nods. “You’re in London for business?” He gestures to the address.

 

 

It’s the location for the Youtube Brandcast, which he and Dan both have agreed to attend in the name of comradeship of British youtubers and business purposes; because Marianne promised to have both their heads if they don’t attend anyway—but more importantly it’s also where Dan is right now, (all black, typical Dan; with denim jacket and a face that Phil wants to kiss).

 

 

“No,”

 

 

He sends a text to Dan that he is on his way.

 

 

“It’s my home.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

People greets him enthusiastically when Phil walks into the building. He is immediately directed to the backroom, where most of his youtuber friends are waiting for the opening of the event.

 

 

Phil receives huge hugs from Caspar and Louise, and Tom doesn’t even curiously ask about him bringing a suitcase—and assumes Dan has already informed them about his whereabouts earlier, hence him coming in late.

 

 

“Hey, you.” Phil slides beside Dan, bumping his shoulder gently. Dan looks good; well rested and calm. Phil also appreciates the way Dan gazes longingly at him; even though Phil is pretty sure he looks like a mess from the long train ride.

 

 

The look haven’t change at all in all these years; so why his heart feels so light?

 

 

“Do you have any clean clothes in there?” Dan asks, gesturing to his luggage. Phil shrugs, muttering about packing more than necessary for two days away from home.

 

 

“Let’s get you change,”

 

 

They both excuse themselves, and Tom shouts at him about some dancing.

 

 

“What?” Phil turns to Dan, wondering.

 

 

“We have to learn a freaking dance routine for the stage appearance,” Dan groans, and scratches the back of his head out of habit. “I told you I don’t want to come.”

 

 

“Do you want to tell that to Marianne?” Phil pushes the door to the small, isolated dressing room at the end of the hallway, and Dan closes it behind him.

 

 

“No,”

 

 

“I thought so,”

 

 

Dan pouts, and rummages through Phil’s clothes from the luggage, while Phil goes to wash his face. He peeks at Dan slightly, watching Dan picking up clean clothes and silently brushes off the subtle wrinkles with his palm. Phil walks over and picks up the white shirt and a black jacket.

 

 

“Yeah, that will do.” Dan says, then leans over and casually kisses Phil on the corner of his mouth.

 

 

Phil briefly nuzzles his nose over Dan’s right dimple. “Thank you,”

 

 

That’s right, he and Dan don’t need saving.

 

 

Dan smiles and pushes Phil’s shoulder. “Get change, and then let’s go find something to eat, I’m starving.”

 

 

Phil casually takes off his clothes without turning around, curiously watching as Dan cleans up after him, throwing the dirty clothes into the suitcase carelessly. Not that Phil is peculiar about an untidy suitcase.

 

 

“Shouldn’t you at least show me the steps?”

 

 

Dan wrinkles his nose, as Phil sprays deodorant over his armpits.

 

 

“I’m not going to, you can just follow what I do.”

 

 

His eyes grow bigger in size, horrified. “Oh my god, you’re right, we should have not come.”

 

 

Dan snorts, his face is written with “I told you so.”

 

 

* * *

 

“You look different,” Louise says to Phil, smiling gently. After changing and getting something to eat, Phil returns to the backstage room with Dan, and is told to sit still by a lady with a make-up brush in her hand. Louise sits by him to accompany him.

 

 

“Did Krista put a glitter eyeshadow on me?” Phil asks, and the make-up lady rolls her eyes, putting more pressure on his forehead with the brush in retaliation.

 

 

Louise laughs, pulling the hem of her dress over her knees. “I wish,” she says, glancing at Dan who is being entertained by the energetic Caspar. “You’re somehow… different, in a way. Both you and Dan.”

 

 

Phil raises an eyebrow at her.

 

 

“How do I say this,” Louise gestures with her hand, and Phil hopes she doesn’t film any of this with her little vlogging camera. “You both seems—free, calmer.”

 

 

“Probably because the tour finally ends,” Phil helpfully provides. It’s such a huge thing; the tour. For introverts like them, especially Dan; having to be with people almost all day every day is a challenge itself.

 

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she replies nonchalantly, checking the footage on her camera. “But still, different. It’s like—“ Then she looks up, eyes narrowing. “Are you two planning something again?”

 

 

“What?” Phil finally turns to look at her, after Krista dusts off the falling powder from his neck and shirt, and walks away.

 

 

“I only got this vibes when you two are planning something.”

 

 

Phil gives her his most innocent look, and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “You’re just imagining things.”

 

 

Louise frowns. “Well, I hope not,” she says. “Call it my motherly instinct, but I feel like this—whatever plan you two have—is a good thing. Different can be a good thing.”

 

 

Phil doesn’t know how to reply.

 

 

“Oh, by the way, I watched some of your gamingmas videos.”

 

 

* * *

 

It started back in October, when the Halloween baking video is created. They had a bit too many marshmallows and candies, and about two shots of vodka, and Dan has been taking notes on easy-to-bake Halloween recipes from Google since morning. When the drilling outside their house finally stopped, and Dan made sure they have enough ingredients for baking, and Phil has done decorating the kitchen and setting up for filming; it’s already 2am and they were a pair of giggling mess.

 

 

When Dan edited it, there was no room to cut off the flirty and sexual-heavy bits. The entire filming was just them _wanting each other_.

 

 

“What should we do?” Dan had asked, staring at Phil when he came to show the finished product.

 

 

Phil, in bed, wearing a glasses with pushed back fringe and a Stephen King’s book, stared back at Dan. “What do you want to do?”

 

 

Dan has looked down to the laptop screen, re-watching the video, and said, “It’s _time_ ,” before uploaded.

 

 

Phil remembers well at the exact moment how his heart almost stop beating.

 

 

It started back in November, when they were attending BONCAs with their fellow Youtube friends. Dan who has decided to be ironically obnoxious, showed up wearing the shiniest suit Phil has ever seen; and Phil, not letting Dan going through it alone, turned up to the event wearing a gold-metallic suit, and if people thought they were matching, he wouldn’t deny it.

 

 

Between the both of them, they won two hashtag trophies (which is perfect in the sense of both quirky and ironic), and never thought that he would actually won the biggest award that night. So when he called Dan up to the stage to share the award, his heart that was racing from adrenaline a moment ago relaxes immediately. After he and Dan descended from the stage after giving their speech and getting ready for the closing number, Dan pulled him by the arm and stared at him wide eyes and red cheeks.

 

 

“You’re—impossible, do you know that?” Dan has whispered, among the buzzing of the backstage crews and loud speakers. “Why?”

 

 

Phil thought that it’s a very bad place for kissing, so he just smiled. “It’s _time_ ,”

 

 

It started in December, when they first uploaded a video for their new project; a series of 24 gaming videos leading up to Christmas day. It was a small project that they had thought of when they were in Dublin for their last show, still reminiscing about how many people has come to them with wet eyes thanking both he and Dan about how watching their videos are their source of happiness in the midst of family problems and school drama—and ended up with Dan relating how he used to be one of those people.

 

 

They started listing out the games and planned the start of their little project, when Phil mentioned about how he wants them to act.

 

 

“What do you mean?” Dan has asked, confused and a bit concerned.

 

 

“You know—how we are.” Phil motioned at both of them. “How we are with each other. Cross the barrier, be comfortable.”

 

 

Putting down his laptop from his lap to the sofa, Dan has stared at Phil for a full minute. “I see,” he muttered, the corner of his lips curls up slightly. “I mean—I agree. We should let them get used to _how we are_ , slowly and carefully, don’t we.”

 

 

Phil nodded, smiling too. “It’s _time_.”

 

 

* * *

 

“And why are you alone?”

 

 

Phil sips his cocktail by the bar, liking the way it’s too sweet that it tingles the tip of his tongue, and looked over to Doug. “Dan has to leave early,” he says.

 

 

“That’s too bad,” Doug replies, albeit a little confused. But Phil knows he only said that as a courtesy. He’s not a hateful person though, Doug is rather supportive of his fellow mates, always congratulates them on their success with sincere and open-mind, and Phil knows Doug fancies him.

 

 

Dan knows too. But Doug is one of the people that isn’t driven away by Dan, so Phil lets him stay.

 

 

Besides, it’s Flipside’s Christmas party, and Doug is the only person he is close enough to hang out for the rest of the night without Dan. He understands the confusion though; unless he leave together with Dan, there were times when he would be the first one to leave a party. Probably Doug is dying to ask him "why" but holds it in. Phil appreciates that.

 

 

“And how are you, by the way?” Doug smiles easily, back leaning over the wall beside Phil. “How is life after the tour?”

 

 

“Calming and also busier.” Phil admits that he is a little tipsy, but he can hold a conversation just fine if not eloquent; and at the same time wondering the name of his sweet cocktail. “We’re talking about moving next year.”

 

 

Yes, moving. He and Dan have been talking about moving every single day now.

 

 

A girl with a high ponytail comes and greets Doug shortly before throwing a shy smile at Phil. Doug boisterously greets her back, but it falls short and the greeting doesn’t extend; so she awkwardly walks away. Phil has never seen her before.

 

 

Doug snorts. “I think she is expecting me to introduce you to her. She has been asking about you a lot.”

 

 

Phil glances at Doug from above his cocktail glass, but the man just grins slyly. “She doesn’t know about you and Dan, and I am not interested to tell.”

 

 

It doesn’t matter to Phil. He likes having new friends. But he also not interested in giving someone a false hope, so he ignores the statement and thinks of the hardworking Dan, back at home, trying to at least make a person smiles. He can sense Doug’s eyes on him, and quickly finishes his cocktail before ordering another.

 

 

“Well,” Doug clears his throat and put down his glass at the bar. “If you’re looking for a new house, I have a friend that can help you,” They both receive their new drinks simultaneously. “She’s really good, I can promise you that. You will find your new dream home in no time, mate.”

 

 

Phil’s sudden burst of laugher catches Doug off-guard, and he blinks at Phil.

 

 

“No, no, it’s just—“ Phil has to actually put down his cocktail and apologizes. “Most of the people we told—they were so heartbroken; as if they were the one leaving the house and not us.”

 

 

But then, Doug has never come over to their house before. They were not that close.

 

 

“If you say you want to move, that’s your choice. You have such lovely audiences too, I’m sure they will respect your decisions as well.”

 

 

Indeed, it’s true. Somehow along the way, as they mature, it seems their audiences have matured too.

 

 

“It’s amazing how your audiences are still oblivious to your relationship though, it doesn’t matter how much they love to pair up you two, they have no proof, so no one can actually point out the truth. It’s interesting.”

 

 

The girl with the high ponytail comes back, talking about them having to participate in the mannequin challenge. Everyone is either drunk or tipsy, and it’s getting very late, and everyone thinks it’s a brilliant idea. Doug drunkenly agrees and pulls Phil with him before being able to catch Phil’s reply.

 

 

“No, our audiences are pretty fucking smart.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Can we talk?”

 

 

Awaken by the smell of coffee, Phil has wander to the kitchen without glasses nor a shirt. Dan is standing by the stove, spreading butter and jam over a couple of toasts. It is five minutes after nine in the morning, and Dan is still in bed-head, and Phil is grumpy and hangover and he leans in to brush a fleeting morning kiss on Dan’s lips as any normal mornings.

 

 

“Can it wait until my hangover is gone?” Phil mumbles, all his attention is focused on picking up the steamy mug and drinks the blissful black potion of magic.

 

 

“Yes,” Dan holds a piece of toast at his direction, almost smacking Phil on the cheek. “Eat up, Phil, there’s an aspirin next to the coffee.”

 

 

Phil bites the toast, and he is pretty sure he just falls in love a bit more. “Thank you.”

 

 

“You’re welcome,” Dan replies curtly, and walks out of the kitchen with a plate of toast and a mug of coffee. Phil follows him after swallowing the pills, wishing his hangover away.

 

 

“What time did I come home last night?”

 

 

Dan sets their breakfast at the table, glaring at Phil before realizing Phil couldn’t see well without his glasses. Dan sighs and hands Phil the spare one he keeps in the lounge.

 

 

“I’m not sure, about two, three in the morning?” Dan says in a small voice, staring at Phil struggling to hold a toast and wearing his glasses at the same time before sitting next to Dan at the sofa. “You came home reeked in alcohol, by the way. And kept asking me if I want to taste your sweet cocktail. I was pretty sure you were asking me to suck your dick. I didn’t, of course. You wouldn’t remember even if I did.”

 

 

Phil waves his hand dismissively. “No, I did have this amazing cocktail at the party, and just wanted you to make out with me so you can taste it.” Phil dusts off the crumbs from his lap. “And good, don’t listen to me when I was drunk off my ass. I want to remember whenever you suck my dick.”

 

 

Dan nods, all serious and confident. “Noted,” he says. “And are you still hangover? Because I want to have my talk now.”

 

 

Phil seems to consider it. “Can it wait after we have sex?”

 

 

“Yes,”

 

 

* * *

 

They did finish off their breakfast first, of course. Wouldn’t want Dan’s morning effort to go to waste. But Phil really likes having sex on the sofa; the space is a bit too small and uncomfortable but it gives them the advantage to hold each other closer.

 

 

“That was pretty good,” Dan pants out, kissing the corner of Phil’s mouth.

 

 

“Yeah,” Phil really doesn’t expect an ‘amazing’ though, considering the limited space and the fact they both still haven’t had a morning shower or even brush their teeth.

 

 

Dan pushes Phil off of him, and Phil stuffs a cushion behind him to ease his back, before Dan stretches over him and hooks his chin over Phil’s shoulder. “Can we talk now?”

 

 

“Yes,” Phil replies, considers not stalling it any longer.

 

 

They both get comfortable, as Dan draws the colourful blanket from the floor over themselves, pointedly ignores the noisy drilling outside their house. Phil wraps his arms loosely around Dan’s back, knows full well that this is inevitable. He can never hide anything from Dan.

 

 

“Since when did you notice?”

 

 

Dan stares at him. “The day you booked the ticket to go to your cousin’s wedding,” he says in quiet voice. “It gets worse when you came back from it.”

 

 

“Yeah,” Phil admits, his right thumb is drawing a circle on Dan’s spine. “I’ve been thinking about marriage a lot, and going to a wedding when you’re having a commitment crisis is not a good idea, it seems.”

 

 

“Commitment crisis? Is that a thing? Are you divorcing me even before getting married?”

 

 

Phil glares at Dan who is grinning cheekily. “Very funny—but, you know, I haven’t give it a thought before because back then, when I first started to come out; getting married—for people like us—is something that is almost impossible. As long as I got to be with the person I love, marriage is not really necessary. But as you know, the world is changing—and I have high hope it’s for the better—and now we can do it if we want. Get married, have children; all nine yards.”

 

 

They have their television sound volume to high, willing to drown the drilling noise. The Christmas tree is tall and a bit intimidating with all its festive decorations.

 

 

“It makes me greedy, and selfish, and I have you, but I want more with you.”

 

 

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Are you proposing?” he asks. “I thought you say that marriage is just a piece of paper.”

 

 

“That’s the thing,” Phil stops drawing circles, and instead running his fingers over the slope of Dan’s back. It’s calming. And he hopes it calms Dan too. “I still think that—I mean, what is marriage? A piece of signed paper that symbolizes the union of two people. Two strangers can sign a paper without knowing anything about each other and they would still be married. And I—I don’t say I don’t want to marry you, Dan Howell, because nothing I want more in life than to make sure you stay mine.”

 

 

“You’re a fucking sap, you know that?” Dan retaliates, a blush appears over his dimpled cheeks. “But we’re more than that, aren’t we? What we both have—it’s more than just a piece of paper.”

 

 

Phil sighs. “I know it sounds ridiculous—“

 

 

“No you’re not—“

 

 

“I want to be with you—longer, _forever_ —and we don’t need everyone to know that, we just hope they accept that; that’s why I talked about being comfortable in the videos. So I can touch and look at you and love you in front of a camera just as well as behind it. And I want to marry you but I don’t want to—not yet—but I still think we should—“

 

 

“Why?” Dan suddenly frowns. “Why do we need to get married?”

 

 

This time, it is Phil’s turn to frown. “You don’t want to?”

 

 

“Yes, of course I do but Phil—what’s the rush?”

 

 

Phil opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. Why—why does he thinks too much about marriage? Why is he rushing as if he is chasing something? Something is _missing_ , he gained so much, but he is _missing something_ ; and that is—

 

 

“Youth,” Phil mutters, eyes boring into Dan’s brown ones; realization. “I’m not getting any younger, Dan. Next year I will be thirty, and who knows what will happen. You know, some people said that marriage can save a person.”

 

 

“Oh, you old man,” Dan chuckles and pats Phil’s chest. Phil is glad that Dan can still laugh. “You’re not dying—I mean, we all are—but you’re not dying anytime soon, not on my watch. To think that Phil Lester would be having an existential crisis…”

 

 

Dan shakes his head, but his looks are soft and gentle.

 

 

“We don’t need saving, Phil Lester.”

 

 

Phil’s heart almost skips a beat.

 

 

“But I get it, basically. I think it’s normal to think about it when we have been together for so long and you’re being an old man,” Dan yelps when Phil pinches his side. “But please, don’t worry about it. As long as we’re together, what else matters? We even try to slowly guide our viewers to get used of the idea of we being together. And we still have a lot of things to cross off our bucket list, starting from a new home because we both can’t stand those fucking annoying drilling anymore,”

 

 

Dan pushes himself up, sitting on his legs and holds his palm over Phil’s face. “And Phil, someday when we decide it’s _time_ , I would be honored to call myself your husband.”

 

 

“You’re even sappier than me,” Phil mutters, and pulls Dan to kiss him.

 

 

“Your mom’s sappier,"

 

 

Three hours later, Dan finds a video from one of the Flipside's party attendee, and Phil has to reassure the jealous Dan that he _did not in fact did a flaming shot off strippers_ with a promise of expensive clothing and a body-shot of their own.

 

 

* * *

 

The wind at the Man is strong, and the windbreaker he is wearing is not helping to ease the cold. Dan is still crouching to snap a picture of the sea, and Phil is keeping an eye on him so he wouldn’t tumble down the cliff.

 

 

Even after all these years together, Phil still thinks Dan is the most adorable when he adorns the fluffy hat that Phil not-so-secretly loves so much.

 

 

It’s such a good escape, celebrating his big thirtieth birthday at the island. They are surrounded by no one but family; a family that is used to them being overly clingy and in love, so he and Dan celebrate their freedom by doing things that they wouldn’t normally do in public, like holding hands. Then Phil thinks of their flat back in London, with pieces of cupboard boxes loitered around in the hallway and the kitchen.

 

 

About a month ago, both of them have met Doug’s friend, who has shown them a lot of homes for rent (since they decided not to buy yet). They settled between two homes—a big flat at the top of a building with killer view and large spaces, and a duplex with big windows and lots of storage. Both he and Dan still have to make their decision, but Phil has to admit it doesn’t matter which; he just can’t wait for the move into their third home together.

 

 

Sometimes he still thinks about the idea of marriage and its concept, and agreed with Dan that they still have a lot of things to do before saying “I do”. Their 2017’s career schedule is looking bright and promising; and their main goal of a big, beautiful forever home is getting near and vibrant.

 

 

Some marriage is done to save something; and he and Dan don’t need saving.

 

 

Dan suddenly sneaks beside him, and shows him the camera roll in his phone, ranting about choosing between two aesthetic collages, and Phil nods obligingly while rubbing his fingers against a small, velvet box in his pocket. The scenery is perfect, the timing is impeccable; but not now, _not yet. S_ omeday, _soon_. Dan is not going anywhere, and neither is Phil.

 

 

He always thinks that marriage is just a piece of paper, or to save something; but truthfully, personally, Phil thinks marriage is having the right to call the person he loves _mine_ , and _only mine_.

 

 

\- end -

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy. and thank you for your advice, you know who you are.


End file.
